Alchemy is a concept that many of us are familiar with, even if only in passing. Alchemy is the refinement of base materials into something more useful -- traditionally a question of chemistry and used in apothecary applications, but also expanding into legend as a source of incredible power including the fabled ability to transform lead into gold. I don't fully buy into most of that. Much of what alchemy once represented has been supplanted by modern science and demystified by the knowledge of chemical compounds and the manufacture of both chemical medications and modern holistic medicine. We now know enough about alloys to understand that, in theory, one can take a lead based alloy and make it appear to be similar to gold, with the proper combinations, and we know that any sort of potions and elixirs were just clever uses of roots and herbs to stimulate the proper chemical responses in the human body.
The philosophical aspects, however, remain relevant, even today. Alchemy wasn't just a profession for chemists and medicine men, it was a way of life. The notion of changing one sort of matter into another was representative of our need for enlightenment. Indeed, this was the foundation of what motivated the pursuit of alchemy. Rather than being motivated by greed (a more modern view of turning lead into gold), alchemists were driven by the reward of seemingly limitless potential that awaited them in mastering their trade. That part of the concept isn't lost to us.
I try to walk the path of personal alchemy, in hopes of refining myself into something better. The prime motivator behind my current pursuit of artistic advancement, physical fitness, and meditative practices come back to that same path. By focusing on personal improvement as a philosophy, one should seek to shore up weaknesses; what made base materials in alchemy such an important part of the philosophy was that they were readily available and relatively worthless on their own. For me, my artwork has always been fairly one-dimensional and limited to a certain style and medium; I have pursued multiple other styles and media to broaden my potential, with varying degrees of success. I've never been in the best shape physically (to the point where I weighed 320 pounds at age 16), but I am currently in the best shape of my life, getting regular exercise and better nutrition. The meditation I'm still working on; not having the time to properly focus and relax makes it very difficult to master the technique.
Ultimately, I think this is a process that any belief system should be able to get on board with. We all have room for improvement, but we also have different paths to follow to get there. It's all a matter of figuring out what your weaknesses are and pursuing a way to compensate, be it through strengthening the weakness or finding another strength that can do the same job. This is, of course, very similar to the nature of self-help literature that can be found almost anywhere. The difference lies in the ultimate goal of the refinement of those weaknesses. The end goal isn't merely to shore up weaknesses and become a better person in the view of the world around you. The goal is a spiritual metamorphosis.
The process of performing personal alchemy is very much akin to that of turning lead into gold in the metaphysical sense, rather than the scientific sense of creating an alloy with similar properties. Rather than simply being a superficial improvement, the process pursues a change to the very core of your being. This is the entire notion of a genuine change; it isn't forced, it becomes a natural part of yourself, one so intrinsic that you no longer recognize that your former state was your own. You must leave the shell of your former self behind you and all of the baggage that comes with it. It's about abandoning the flaws that plague us.
I've by no means completed my journey on this path, and doubt that I ever will. With every weakness that I overcome, I discover others that I will have to turn attention to in the future. It's an ongoing process that is the ultimate life's work. Personal alchemy is not and will never be an easy path, but it is one that is rewarding and quite enriching at every turn. Flaws are part of being human, and no matter how far we may progress, they will remain a constant; what separates us from those limitations is our willingness to accept that those flaws exist and our dedication to proving that they can be overcome.
Showing posts with label Metaphor. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Metaphor. Show all posts
Friday, February 24, 2012
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
A Totemic State of Mind
Symbolism is a very powerful thing for pagans of all stripes (and for nearly every other religion). The various gods and goddesses, and other divine and semi-divine figures, all draw upon symbolic representations in their associated mythologies. After all, what could be more iconic than Thor's hammer, the triquetra knot, or the Eye of Horus? We've grown accustomed to these symbols as iconography, and we know what to expect from these images. We've come to expect those symbols as part of our cultural identities.
This iconography extends far beyond the gods and the divine, however. Something that has grown increasingly relevant to my own spirituality is the concept of totems, spiritual symbols of qualities or concepts that one seeks to draw strength from and to emulate in their day to day life. I used to be highly dismissive of the idea of something like having a "spirit animal", and to an extent I'm still hesitant to fully accept the notion the way that others do; I think there's a lot of distance to cover between regarding these totems as symbols and the idea of a spirit beast or even the "animal-soul" ideas of some subcultures. The idea of a totem on the other hand, is a very powerful concept with a great history across several cultures.
Now, just to clarify that last bit: Spirit guides are one thing, spirit animals and animal-souls are another matter entirely. Spirit guides are a bit closer to the totemic concept, but show up more as a meditative tool -- they come into the subconscious during times of reflection to bring a symbolic sort of path out of the proverbial mental fog. Spirit animals/animal-souls, meanwhile, are more along the lines of people who believe that they were born infused with the spirit of a certain animal -- rather than merely admiring what the animal represents, they seek to emulate the animal to the extent of assuming it as part of their identity. This can sometimes go far beyond any sort of spirituality, and frankly I consider it more of a corruption of the totem concept that takes the idea too far; emulating the symbol is one thing, attempting to assimilate it is another all together.
Now, it's fairly obvious how totems originated. To the ancients, nature was much, much more immediate than it is for us. They lacked the separation created by modern comforts, and the hunt was less of a past-time and more urgent. Animals held a far greater sort of relevance to them, and as a result, the ancients imparted a deep, intimate sort of symbolism to the idea of these animals. Looking more at the ecology of the northern hemisphere, two of the main recurring totems are fairly predictable: the stag and the wolf.
Deer, elk, caribou, and other animals of that "stag" archetype were an essential part of the environment. The hunt provided food to eat, leather for clothing, bones for tools and trophies, and myriad other boons to the hunters. Most cultures came to revere the stag for this reason; even though they preyed upon the animals, they respected how important those animals were to their own continued existence. Stag become a totem of vitality and survival, representing strength and the providence of nature (often personified with horned gods like Cernunnos and Herne that, among other things, represented the hunt). Wolves and their ilk, on the other hand, served to remind the ancients that despite all of man's tools, nature still held many dangers that could threaten us. They came to represent the predator and, indirectly, the indomitable aspect that warriors sought to have, they served as rivals and antagonists to our survival and drove us to become better hunters (personified most notably in Fenris, the great wolf-god that would ultimately devour Odin).
A truly totemic viewpoint will incorporate multiple totems (one of the shortcomings I find in the animal-soul idea is the exclusion of other totems -- you lose a considerable amount of potential by overlooking what other totems can bring you). Ultimately it comes to a respect of the natural order and an understanding of how that order is maintained or was intended to be maintained. It's easy to lose touch with that natural aspect in the modern era as distant as most of us have come from that intimate connection that the ancients had. We aren't dependent on the wilderness for our survival, we're dependent on the grocery store. We don't need to revere and respect the predators to stay alive, we have our locked homes and cities for that, and only have to worry about other people. We've grown far from our roots. Thinking in a totemic mode brings us closer to those roots and reconnects us to our true nature.
This iconography extends far beyond the gods and the divine, however. Something that has grown increasingly relevant to my own spirituality is the concept of totems, spiritual symbols of qualities or concepts that one seeks to draw strength from and to emulate in their day to day life. I used to be highly dismissive of the idea of something like having a "spirit animal", and to an extent I'm still hesitant to fully accept the notion the way that others do; I think there's a lot of distance to cover between regarding these totems as symbols and the idea of a spirit beast or even the "animal-soul" ideas of some subcultures. The idea of a totem on the other hand, is a very powerful concept with a great history across several cultures.
Now, just to clarify that last bit: Spirit guides are one thing, spirit animals and animal-souls are another matter entirely. Spirit guides are a bit closer to the totemic concept, but show up more as a meditative tool -- they come into the subconscious during times of reflection to bring a symbolic sort of path out of the proverbial mental fog. Spirit animals/animal-souls, meanwhile, are more along the lines of people who believe that they were born infused with the spirit of a certain animal -- rather than merely admiring what the animal represents, they seek to emulate the animal to the extent of assuming it as part of their identity. This can sometimes go far beyond any sort of spirituality, and frankly I consider it more of a corruption of the totem concept that takes the idea too far; emulating the symbol is one thing, attempting to assimilate it is another all together.
Now, it's fairly obvious how totems originated. To the ancients, nature was much, much more immediate than it is for us. They lacked the separation created by modern comforts, and the hunt was less of a past-time and more urgent. Animals held a far greater sort of relevance to them, and as a result, the ancients imparted a deep, intimate sort of symbolism to the idea of these animals. Looking more at the ecology of the northern hemisphere, two of the main recurring totems are fairly predictable: the stag and the wolf.
Deer, elk, caribou, and other animals of that "stag" archetype were an essential part of the environment. The hunt provided food to eat, leather for clothing, bones for tools and trophies, and myriad other boons to the hunters. Most cultures came to revere the stag for this reason; even though they preyed upon the animals, they respected how important those animals were to their own continued existence. Stag become a totem of vitality and survival, representing strength and the providence of nature (often personified with horned gods like Cernunnos and Herne that, among other things, represented the hunt). Wolves and their ilk, on the other hand, served to remind the ancients that despite all of man's tools, nature still held many dangers that could threaten us. They came to represent the predator and, indirectly, the indomitable aspect that warriors sought to have, they served as rivals and antagonists to our survival and drove us to become better hunters (personified most notably in Fenris, the great wolf-god that would ultimately devour Odin).
A truly totemic viewpoint will incorporate multiple totems (one of the shortcomings I find in the animal-soul idea is the exclusion of other totems -- you lose a considerable amount of potential by overlooking what other totems can bring you). Ultimately it comes to a respect of the natural order and an understanding of how that order is maintained or was intended to be maintained. It's easy to lose touch with that natural aspect in the modern era as distant as most of us have come from that intimate connection that the ancients had. We aren't dependent on the wilderness for our survival, we're dependent on the grocery store. We don't need to revere and respect the predators to stay alive, we have our locked homes and cities for that, and only have to worry about other people. We've grown far from our roots. Thinking in a totemic mode brings us closer to those roots and reconnects us to our true nature.
Monday, June 27, 2011
Becoming the Sword
It's an ever-growing trend to go one of two ways in today's society: we either embrace our emotions and become seen as weak-willed and wishy-washy (or in a positive light, nurturing and empathetic -- though the extremes taken are seldom so positive), or we become so hardened and callous to the world around us that we lose the capacity for true empathy. This is particularly visible in the current trends in high-emotive/increasingly permissive parenting and low-empathy/increasingly self-centered teenagers -- one is most certainly partly responsible for the other, and the whole thing is certainly cyclical to previous generations. This pattern of personal growth reminds me greatly of working with raw metals. If steel is left too soft, it becomes unable to perform the task; if it becomes too hard and rigid, it snaps under the pressure far too easily.
I can say that I've seen both extremes from a very personal perspective. As a child, I was very sensitive and the rigors of bullying and general frustrations left me little more than a weak and pitiable mess, both physically and emotionally. I was very much the unrefined ore: soft, malleable, easily impressed upon by my surroundings, and easily broken for that weakness. I knew what it felt like to be powerless in that environment; to feel as though there was no hope and no way out of the emotional quagmire that I had found myself residing in. I would hardly call what I had in that period of my existence a "life". I had a miserable time at school, and had grown to loathe most of my peers, but most of all I had grown to loathe and despise myself for my weakness.
When I removed myself from the situation (at the end of 8th grade, I insisted upon home schooling to complete my basic education), the first refinements were able to begin. Those weaknesses that I had come to detest in myself were gradually worn away through a combination of simply removing myself from the triggers that made me so miserable, using humor to lash out at things which angered me, and beginning the steps to lose the morbid-obesity label that I had earned myself up until that point. This path continued until very recently, in all honesty, when I began to realize just how little concern I had left for those who I don't know personally, and how readily I could simply switch off even that distinction. It could be said that I had become so hardened to the world around me that I was on the verge of shattering.
In keeping with the metaphor, I had reached the point where a proper smith must decide whether to cease at the too-hardened point that has been reached, or to scrap the piece and start anew. Of course, it's not really that simple to just discard part of yourself, it's more a question of softening that hardened outer-layer that's been tempered into place -- undoing the process, in a sense -- that matters. You have to strive for that balance where you'll neither bend -- as the soft metal will do -- nor break -- as the hardened steel would. Much as swordsmithing, this is a fine art that takes a lifetime to perfect, and I am by no means a master in finding that balance.
I still consider myself to be too hardened in many ways. I lock any sort of outward show of emotions inside myself until I reach a breaking point, and even then that "break" is very controlled and carefully measured (always in solitude, mind you -- I think I'd be far too self-conscious to express it in front of someone else). Much like tempered steel, I use the fueled fire of anger and frustration to hold my hardened exterior together. Not the healthiest methods, but they have certainly proven efficient over the years. Further exploration of the spiritual part of me in the last few years has made it much easier to comprehend a lot of the reasons that I react and handle things the way that I do, not to mention the aid in developing better coping mechanisms than turning myself into my own whipping post all the time. I've been experimenting with the concept of resonant meditation (emotional resonance, not auditory) to remedy that, with some success of late.
The ultimate point of the process is this: Without being properly forged one cannot become fulfilled in their true purpose, and if one gives in to the forging too readily they can become far too rigid to sustain their integrity. One must become as the sword to reach that fine balance of flexibility and strength in order to know their true potential. It is a process that never truly ends.
I can say that I've seen both extremes from a very personal perspective. As a child, I was very sensitive and the rigors of bullying and general frustrations left me little more than a weak and pitiable mess, both physically and emotionally. I was very much the unrefined ore: soft, malleable, easily impressed upon by my surroundings, and easily broken for that weakness. I knew what it felt like to be powerless in that environment; to feel as though there was no hope and no way out of the emotional quagmire that I had found myself residing in. I would hardly call what I had in that period of my existence a "life". I had a miserable time at school, and had grown to loathe most of my peers, but most of all I had grown to loathe and despise myself for my weakness.
When I removed myself from the situation (at the end of 8th grade, I insisted upon home schooling to complete my basic education), the first refinements were able to begin. Those weaknesses that I had come to detest in myself were gradually worn away through a combination of simply removing myself from the triggers that made me so miserable, using humor to lash out at things which angered me, and beginning the steps to lose the morbid-obesity label that I had earned myself up until that point. This path continued until very recently, in all honesty, when I began to realize just how little concern I had left for those who I don't know personally, and how readily I could simply switch off even that distinction. It could be said that I had become so hardened to the world around me that I was on the verge of shattering.
In keeping with the metaphor, I had reached the point where a proper smith must decide whether to cease at the too-hardened point that has been reached, or to scrap the piece and start anew. Of course, it's not really that simple to just discard part of yourself, it's more a question of softening that hardened outer-layer that's been tempered into place -- undoing the process, in a sense -- that matters. You have to strive for that balance where you'll neither bend -- as the soft metal will do -- nor break -- as the hardened steel would. Much as swordsmithing, this is a fine art that takes a lifetime to perfect, and I am by no means a master in finding that balance.
I still consider myself to be too hardened in many ways. I lock any sort of outward show of emotions inside myself until I reach a breaking point, and even then that "break" is very controlled and carefully measured (always in solitude, mind you -- I think I'd be far too self-conscious to express it in front of someone else). Much like tempered steel, I use the fueled fire of anger and frustration to hold my hardened exterior together. Not the healthiest methods, but they have certainly proven efficient over the years. Further exploration of the spiritual part of me in the last few years has made it much easier to comprehend a lot of the reasons that I react and handle things the way that I do, not to mention the aid in developing better coping mechanisms than turning myself into my own whipping post all the time. I've been experimenting with the concept of resonant meditation (emotional resonance, not auditory) to remedy that, with some success of late.
The ultimate point of the process is this: Without being properly forged one cannot become fulfilled in their true purpose, and if one gives in to the forging too readily they can become far too rigid to sustain their integrity. One must become as the sword to reach that fine balance of flexibility and strength in order to know their true potential. It is a process that never truly ends.
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